Remembering a trip to Pakistan

FROM 1940 to 1947, vociferous politicians of all stripes, enlightened intellectuals, highbrow scholars and erudite economists were engaged in a warfare of books and pamphlets on themes like Pakistan — the problem of India, Pakistan or Partition and why Pakistan and why not. Khushwant Singh’s train came to Pakistan in 1956. But Yusuf Meherally made A Trip to Pakistan in 1942!

Yusuf Meherally, Achyut Patwardhan, Asoka Mehta, Ram Manohar Lohia, Jai Prakash Narain, and Minoo Masani (the author of an all-time bestseller — Our India) formed the hard core of the then Congress Socialist Party (CSP) in the 1930s and 40s. Yusuf Meherally was the mayor of Bombay in the early forties. He has been described as a “dauntless freedom fighter, a dynamic youth leader and a dedicated socialist whose socialism had ethical and aesthetic roots because he hated cruelty and ugliness in life”.

The noble and the beautiful blended in his sensitive mind creating in him a deep concern for human suffering.

In the light of his experiences during a visit to a part of British India now in Pakistan, Meherally wrote a book titled A Trip to Pakistan. Dedicated to Minoo Masani, the book was completed when Meherally was undergoing a sentence of imprisonment in Lahore Central Jail in 1942. It was published in December 1943 and cost the royal sum of four rupees and eight annas in those days. The prestigious Modern Review rated it as “one of the most discussed books of the year”. Within a short time, its second edition was brought out in April 1944.

With a captivating sarcastic vein running through the pages, it is an exceedingly entertaining book. For the decade of the 1940s in British India, it was unusual political satire. And in his light style Meherally unconsciously anticipates future events and the shape of things to come.

Regarding migration, he wrote, “a tremendous mass exodus…. Masses in action are a sight for the Gods to see … there is always something big, something magnificently heroic and pathetic about them…. Perhaps some future Tolstoy would commemorate them in shining prose or burning verse for the future generation to read.”

Meherally describes his arrival in Lahore in the following words, “I had barely alighted from the train … when an officer (looking every inch a Pakistani) approached me … put into my hands … a communication from the Governor of Pakistan…. It required me to leave by the next available train and be out of the limits of Pakistan within 12 hours … Pakistan … was not like other parts of India or like other parts of the world. It was the homeland of very special people….

“From the lists of don’ts mentioned in the notice, religious meetings and functions had been specifically excluded, which showed how God-fearing the Pakistan government in reality was…. The next available train was leaving in one hour’s time but it was a slow passenger train and sure enough would not take anyone out of Pakistan within the time specified. The model government of Pakistan had served me with a notice that was impossible to obey! This was convincing proof that they really did not want me to leave….”

With time on his hand Meherally went sightseeing. “Whenever I moved out I felt conscious of being followed. There were two persons who were watching me closely…. Could public money be better spent than in such silent and unswerving homage to political workers?” Meherally asked.

Meherally’s friend informed him “that the shops were closed because the merchants and traders are all on a general strike, and every trade is affected by it.” Meherally exclaimed, “A general strike! What luck and I an eyewitness to it … who is the labour leader?” His friend replied: “Labour leader? What labour leader? It is the merchants who are on strike…. It is … a protest against a new sales tax imposed by the Pakistan government.”

Meherally wrote, “On our side it was labour that generally struck work. But Pakistan was different, it was unique. Here, capital went on strike … Pakistan seemed to be a country of most unexpected surprises.”

While discussing the general situation in ‘Pakistan’, Meherally remarked that a well-known political leader was a Wahhabi. His local friend remarked that the leader “was not a Wahhabi but a plain Mussalman!” (A case of enlightened moderation?) He added, “You must know that we are a very religious people … several political parties here rely on the use of this sentiment for their successes … politics in Pakistan is the art of rousing religious feelings to meet the exigencies of specific situations.”

Meherally visited “the tomb of Mohammad Iqbal, one of the great poets of this century. His reputation … must grow with time, and his last resting place become an abode of pilgrimage, where … [pilgrims] will come in increasing numbers.”

About the Parliament House, he wrote, “One specialty about the Parliament House that meets the eye is the … architectural tradition has been replaced by … modernity. The Pakistan government decided to have no truck with the class of … workmen, who … built the Badshahi Mosque or Jehangir’s mausoleum. They decided to employ only most modern architects.”

On political confrontations he writes: “Disputes arose … events started moving fast…. If the head of Pakistan had been some civilian, perhaps the showdown would not have come so quickly. But [he] … is … every inch a soldier. He immediately gave a call to arms, and instant mobilisation was ordered…. But, at last … generalship was seen to full advantage … he overwhelmed the forces by a skilful pincer movement…The [prisoners who were] deported … filled the various jails of Pakistan.”

For his overstay, Meherally was arrested. “As I entered the Lahore Central Jail … I was led … to that section called Bomb Ghar (named so ‘because dangerous terrorist prisoners have been kept there for many years’). We were a small company when I arrived … half of them being terrorists…. What a cross section of life a jail represents! With me as fellow companions were … leaders, kissan workers, millionaire merchant princes, penniless labour organisers, enterprising terrorists, well-known journalists, poets, writers, and Members of Parliament….Where else … would one come across such a remarkable collection except in a Pakistan jail…. And the administration always having public interest in mind, keeps a watch over these troublemakers … at the very first opportunity, gives them … Arrest, Trial, Jail, and often Arrest and Jail.”

The Kashmiri input

THE Kashmiri cause has suffered because their contribution to the discourse has been unrealistically high-pitched. This is understandable but not helpful. We now have two detailed schemes by the National Conference and the People’s Democratic Party. The NC’s politics make one wonder about the sincerity of its commitment to the people as distinct from its self-serving commitment to New Delhi.

Its president, Omar Abdullah, cried on June 21, 2002 apropos his father Farooq: “Whenever you needed him to go and defend your human rights record, even when human rights were at their worst in early ’90s, he went to Geneva, Vienna and the UN and did the best he could. Even the human rights record was not worth the paper it was written on.”

One would have thought that in those trying days Farooq’s proper place was with his people. The laments had a purpose — reward him commensurately for his services to New Delhi. “To expect that man will accept anything you throw at him like some sort of a grateful dog for some scrap is to add salt to the wounds you (New Delhi) have inflicted.”

Such men cannot be serious about their peoples’ rights. This is confirmed by Omar’s remarks on Oct 13, 2002. “I have resigned to strengthen my party in J&K and my party will continue to remain in the (BJP-led) National Democratic Alliance.” This was on the eve of the assembly poll and seven months after the Godhra massacre. These people function by the centre’s grace. The polls are an inconvenient ritual.Sordid politics is no reason for neglecting the NC’s contribution to the debate on constitutional change — the report of the State Autonomy Committee submitted in April 1999 nearly a decade ago. It contains a thorough exposure of the process by which Article 370 of the Indian constitution, which was designed to protect Kashmir’s autonomy, was itself perverted to destroy it. That is a service.

Its main recommendation is a return to the Delhi Agreement of July 1952 between Nehru and Shaikh Abdullah on the further application of the Indian constitution to the state. But Shaikh sahib himself had second thoughts and rejected it in a letter to Maulana Azad dated July 16, 1953. The accord lacked popular support without which it “would not suffice to dispel the fears that have arisen in the minds of the people of Kashmir”. He was arrested on Aug 9, 1953. The NC promises a revised scheme.

The PDP’s paper of last month ‘Jammu & Kashmir: The self-rule framework for resolution’ has two aims. First, “the rolling back of, and also the retention of, various provisions of the Constitution of India made applicable to the state, according to the normative test that meet the genuine requirements of both the Union and the State”. Secondly, “self-rule must also form the basis of relationship between the people of Pakistan administered Kashmir and Pakistan”.

It, therefore, proposes that J&K’s Legislative Council, the upper house, be “restructured to form the Regional Council of Greater Jammu & Kashmir” comprising 50 members from both parts of Kashmir, to “ensure long-term coordination of matters and of interest relating to the State”, specifically on all “across the LoC” matters such as dual currency, communications, joint management of water resources, creation of a common energy market, etc. There will also be “sub-regional councils” to make J&K “a regional federation”.

This is constitutionally impossible and also unnecessary. Apart from entailing a constitutional amendment of doubtful validity, it will result in one wing of the state’s legislature having members who neither reside in nor are citizens of that part of Kashmir but will nonetheless make laws for it. It is also unnecessary. It can be part of the joint mechanism envisaged in the four-point formula. There can be, besides, an all-J&K consultative assembly for discussing matters of common concern without legislative powers.

It would be as unwise to unravel the consensus on this formula between Tariq Aziz and Satinder Lambah as it would be to bar Kashmiri input on its terms before they are put into force.

Any accord can be implemented in India only by a presidential order under Article 370 which repeals all previous orders, lays down finally the provisions of the Indian constitution which will apply to J&K consistently with self-rule, and declare that Article 370 “shall cease to be operative” as clause three permits.

Article 257 of the Constitution of Pakistan reads thus: “When the people of the state of Jammu and Kashmir decide to accede to Pakistan, relationship between Pakistan and the state shall be determined in accordance with the wishes of the people of that state.” This is obviously an interim provision. It will have to be replaced by another provision guaranteeing self-rule for Azad Kashmir and the Northern Areas as fully as the revised Article 370 in the Indian constitution must do for the rest of the state.

There are four issues on which realistic Kashmiri input is required — a joint mechanism; free movement of persons, goods and literature across the LoC; a quantum of self-rule and guarantees against its violation; and, finally, the appointment of the head of state. He may be appointed by the centre but only from among a panel elected by the state assembly. Without this autonomy has no meaning.

The writer is a lawyer and an author.

Not in our name

IT is ironic that the Taj Hotel, a structure that came up as a rejection of the white man now smoulders in angry flames because of its patronage by the well-heeled expatriate community and the very British citizen (among others) that Jamshetji Tata thumbed his nose at. In a bizarre case of déjà vu — how long ago was it that terrorists struck the landmarks of the Indian financial capital — another round of senseless violence has struck the port city.

Mumbai woke up to realise that its growing prosperity in recent gloomy economic climes notwithstanding, its sense of security will continue to spiral out of its control. The ghoul of evils to come hold the denizens of the city in a daze as they stagger to draw meaning from the early hours of Thursday morning. There are attempts to point fingers, to apportion guilt. But the cold reality is that tragedy will visit one no matter where you live, however you occupy yourself.

Long before the first funerals were conducted, there were loud whispers whether the gunmen had been patronised by forces based in our fair land. The Indian prime minister addressing his compatriots later in the evening hinted darkly along similar lines.

Logic would explain that our current political and military infrastructure is preoccupied tackling its own personal demons to enter such misadventures. But we have to acknowledge that in recent times they are not the one’s calling the shots when it comes to activities conducted in our name on both sides of the border — whether it is Afghanistan or India. My colleague Prof Marika Vicziany, a South Asia specialist, joins me in arguing that “I believe that the present Pakistani government is too sharply focused on handling its own domestic terrorist problems to interfere in India. Lashkar-i-Taiba shows some evidence of its involvement in recruiting supporters in western India.”

We know the chaos in our political corridors as there is a shift in power about who speaks for and is the face of Pakistan now. Like mini fiefdoms, there are actors who challenge the writ of the state and threaten decisions taken by the government. As Islamabad moves towards building peace with its restive eastern neighbour, there might be some who want to challenge any kind of resolution to the two nations’ conflicts.

At the same time we are all well aware of the paradigms of being young and Muslim today, especially when it comes to the disillusioned and isolated Muslim male growing up in the post 9/11 world. Being Muslim is now a transnational idea and this vulnerable group’s paranoia arises from matters beyond national borders.

For instance in the late eighties at the peak of the Rushdie fatwa controversy a British Pakistani walking the streets of London would have announced that he would follow the pronouncements of an ayatollah in Iran rather than the laws of Britain when it came to the personal freedoms of the controversial writer. Similarly today the Indian Muslim’s strong sense of injustice and alienation feeds on a steady diet of tales of repression and discrimination coming from other parts of the world.

The worry is that much like the horror unfolding on our side of the border certain Indian citizens would see themselves as compatriots of a (presumably) disenfranchised Muslim community and prejudiced against rather than active members of a vibrant Indian civil society.

So what will the city mourn? Will it become increasingly polarised against the Muslims living in its midst? Earlier even as the city reeled in the aftermath of communal violence and lines were clearly drawn, the local trains emerged as the one ray of hope in the increasingly divided city of Mumbai. Suketu Mehta’s Maximum City was not alone in pointing out how every morning the hands reaching out to help haul in the commuter rushing to meet the train would extend regardless of what caste or religion the other belonged to.

I have also witnessed how they would stretch out through a mutual understanding and acknowledgement that the other is also a harried worker apprehensive of missing his train and not making it in time to earn a day’s living, a student who wants to catch an early class, a parent rushing for an appointment. Yes, that idyll was temporarily shattered earlier this year in the midst of attacks against North Indians in public spaces by angry Maharashtrians. But will such acts of compassion survive?

And writing about the violence against North Indians reminds me of the ire of some in India as they ask of the self-appointed custodian of the city, Mr Raj Thackeray, about his passivity in the past hours. India’s popular blogger MM questions: “Where is Raj Thakeray now that his beloved Mumbai is under attack? Where are those who charged in to save their city from a bunch of poor taxi drivers from Bihar? Why don’t they put their lives down to save the city now when it is really under attack? No, I know we don’t need them to add to the chaos with their misguided views — just a thought.”

And what can we in Pakistan do? We condemn the events in spite of our rocky relationship and our severe case of neighbour envy. The Pakistani citizen’s silence, or sheer indifference as it does not really affect his life and that he has enough to worry about, will go a long way in defining the sort of South Asia we want to grow old in. We should speak out as Gunter Grass reminds us: “I speak out because I am a citizen. I think the Weimar Republic collapsed and the Nazis took over in 1933 because there were not enough citizens. That’s the lesson I have learned. Citizens cannot leave politics just to politicians”.

So don’t leave it to Mr Zardari and his ilk to speak for us. Speak out about violence no matter whose life is at stake. And pray for a saner tomorrow.